


暴食

by orphan_account



Category: Corpse Party (Video Game), Corpse Party: Tortured Souls
Genre: Chubby Kink, Chubby Yoshiki, Derogatory Language, Gluttony, Hedonism, Masturbation, Stuffing, Teasing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 12:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19150906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Straight stuffing where I don't post on my real account and write about a niche kink in an even more niche fandom haha enJOYBtw the title is Chinese for gluttony. Yes I know the character is Japanese





	暴食

Yoshiki traced over this mouth slowly with his thumb. Sauce marked the indents in his skin. He took his natural instinct to lick it off, and the extent of his indulgence dawned on him.

He was laying back on the arm of his sofa, one foot planted on the other side, and the other dangling off onto the floor. The bowl of Chinese noodles rested heavily on his stomach, which, after two and a half servings, had enough shape to hold it up without slipping down his torso. His shirt had been crumpled up above his navel, revealing the swell of his belly that curved out over his pants. Yoshiki stroked a hand slowly over his stomach, keeping it there for a while. It felt warm - and it wasn't just from the takeout.

With a deep breath, Yoshiki grabbed a handful of noodles up with his chopsticks and stuck them into his mouth. It was getting difficult to swallow, when he had to breathe _and_ eat. But he continued to empty his bowl just to fill it up again, because he would rather just eat than breathe.

The tangy sauce of the chow mein now had almost no effect on Yoshiki's tongue. He had enjoyed the savoury taste when he started, but now all of his focus was on getting the food into his compact stomach, for it to expand just that little bit more. He sat up, and his tummy growled loudly, now hanging over the waistband of his jeans, which were now digging deep into his middle. Just the sight of it gave Yoshiki another wave of arousal, straining his button and zipper even more. He poked his stomach, and it gave a loud gurgle in return.

One bowl left.

He was stifling burps into his fists now in the hopes that his neighbor wouldn't hear them as well as the heavy pants that were now tumbling out of his mouth. He was becoming so loud. He was struggling to control himself. With one hand, he went to palm himself through his pants, but the bowl of noodles slipped as he arched his back with the pleasure of easing the pressure of his crotch. He managed to catch it in time, but not with the same hand. In his urgency to save his meal, Yoshiki had dropped the chopsticks, and they slid down the steep slope of his swollen stomach onto the floor. He didn't even have to move to know he wouldn't be getting them back for a while. Fuck it.

He grabbed a handful of noodles out of the bowl and shoved them past his lips, a few slithering down his chin into his ridden-up shirt. As he swallowed them promptly, his belly groaned and pushed up another loud belch, which Yoshiki had to muffle. The pressure in his stomach had pushed his jeans out once more, and he felt the button slip out of its hole. At the lack of support, his zipper was immediately shoved down by his protruding gut, which bulged out another few inches now that it wasn't being held back. It moved down a fraction more after Yoshiki's erection shot up higher, now threatening to pull down the waistband of his boxers, which were already sliding down the curve of his belly.

As Yoshiki pushed the last few morsels of his takeout, he observed the mess that he'd made. Empty plastics tubs stained with grease lined the floor by the sofa, and his shirt was covered in similar stains with stray noodles. He picked them off and put them into his mouth. There was no need to waste it, after all. The stench of his meal was now prominent throughout his living room, and his stomach was struggling to digest the four helpings of beef chow mein he'd just stuffed himself with. It reminded him of how much of a glutton he was, to indulge on such fattening foods so often, and by which point, he could no longer ignore his stiff arousal.

He reached over his expanded belly and began to pump. Before long, he reached his orgasm, the pressure in his stomach forcing up a burp and making him shudder with excitement. He spilled all over his thighs, cum slowly running down ether side of his legs. It was much more than usual. He had gotten far too aroused when the mere _idea_ of ordering a Chinese had struck him. He reached down for a tissue, but felt a pang in his stomach and immediately sat back up. Slowly, he eased himself down back into his previous position and placed his hands on top of his gurgling belly. He began to rub in circles in an attempt to ease out the developing cramps that his pigging out had caused. It was becoming a problem. However, it couldn't be helped. Yoshiki's addiction to savory foods were not something that his mind could overpower, and he very well knew that.

He had always been glad that he didn't have much of a sweet tooth. There were always people complaining about their own; that it was so difficult to stick to a diet when things like chocolate and soda existed; that they could pile on weight so easily if they didn't watch it.

Yoshiki was watching, but he never made an attempt to stop himself. The salty tastes that overpowered his mouth were very much welcome in his mind - especially when they gave him so much satisfaction. The feeling of filling himself up with mountains of pizza, crisps, burgers, fries - it was too much of a delight. And he lived under his own rules now, he had every right to eat what he wanted. Even if heaps of indulgence on carbohydrates would have an effect on his waistline, should he continue to give in to his cravings.

Of course, there was no avoiding this. In a couple of months time, Yoshiki hadn't slowed down his eating habits a fraction - if anything, his appetite only grew. And that wasn't the part of Yoshiki getting larger. He'd quickly grown well out of his jeans and button-up shirts due to day after day of eating much more than he needed to, straining and pushing said clothes until the seams had no option but to tear apart. His thighs and ass pushed against the fabric of the sweatpants he'd kept for years, and he often had to pull down his t-shirts in an attempt to cover up the round belly that now peeked over his waistband. He gave up after a while. Just raising his arms would reveal the new pudge that had covered his midsection, pushing the hems of his shirts out of the way.

Sure, he had weight clinging onto his lower half, and his cheeks had rounded out too, but his tummy had gotten so much flabbier than the rest of himself. It stuck out prominently when he sat down, spilling into his lap and sitting on his thighs. When he walked around shirtless he could feel his chubby belly jiggling and bouncing as he moved - sometimes he thought there was a slight jump in his chest. He knew that when he touched himself, his entire body - tummy, thighs and all - would wobble around as he jacked himself off to the idea of growing even softer and bigger.

His fantasies grew as large as his stomach. He'd weighed himself, and got hot at the result: 163 pounds. He wanted to be fed until he could barely breathe, shirts and pants fit to burst, somebody cupping and playing with his belly, force-feeding him spoon after spoon of rice to make him grow. Somebody to tease him for how much he'd let himself go, how every time he overate the pounds piled up on his body, showing everyone how much of a fucking pig he was-

His dick was digging into the soft flab of his skin. The chunky gut he sported heaved up and down as Yoshiki breathed in and out heavily. He grabbed at his tubby belly and squeezed it in his hands - soft fat oozed out like dough. The chub on his thighs swayed from side to side as he stroked himself, taking in how his chest was snug against his shirt - soon, he'd have  
little tits pushing against his uniform, showing how much of a glutton he truly was. His steps were heavier; he had a pillow of an ass to sit down on.

He still worked out, but his appetite significantly outweighed the amount of exercise Yoshiki was doing, which decreased slowly as more time passed. He knew he was getting lazier, but after seeing the significant consequences of doing so (he could cup his puffy nipples in his hands and toy with them like breasts), he became determined to do as little moving about as possible.

Perhaps it was because he was so spoilt in childhood. He usually got what he wanted handed to him on a platter with even more than what was expected. Now, he almost missed that sort of luxury life, where he could be comfortable and receive anything he desired. Now, he wanted to be pampered and treated by someone else, feeding him whatever he wanted until he couldn't move. He wanted them to toy with his extra weight that spilled over the front and sides of his pants, that pushed against the chest of his shirts and the back pockets of his pants. He wanted his belly pushed around, juggled, rubbed to his absolute pleasure. And he wanted someone to lick the salt off his lips and envelope him in a kiss and hug, snuggling into his pillowy chest and tummy, tracing circles into his jaw or his thighs.

He _needed_ attention. And, if he wasn't getting it right now, he would just have to make himself stand out more. And, with that, Yoshiki shovelled the last piece of the steak pie past his sauce-stained lips, feeling it sink slowly into his heavy gut.


End file.
